


I'll Take the Night Shift, You Look Handsome In the Dark

by scary_crow



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gaara crushes on Naruto for all of twelve seconds, M/M, Porn and Feelings, Post-War, Sasuke hosts the revolution, light s/d, their safe words are ramen ingredients
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 11:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20865545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scary_crow/pseuds/scary_crow
Summary: Sasuke can't let go of the past, but at least it keeps him from settling.





	I'll Take the Night Shift, You Look Handsome In the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to [Transatlanticism](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3b6hDCIeDk) by Death Cab on repeat while writing this, in case you want some background music.

☾

Naruto settles in easy. He drapes himself over the arm of Shikamaru’s couch, as Sasuke sits up straight, bare feet planted on the carpet. He puts his hands on Sasuke when they’re in public, on his thigh or the small of his back, while Sasuke fidgets with the zipper on his flak jacket. He closes his eyes when they kiss, before their lips even touch, but Sasuke looks over Naruto’s shoulder until the last second just to make sure they are both safe.

He knows it’s not necessary, but he can’t get the war out of his bones. He doesn’t have nightmares or flashbacks—in fact, he rarely even thinks about the specifics anymore. Instead, the past manifests as a constant undercurrent, a chronic shadow that leaves him convinced that around every corner somebody or something is waiting to hurt or capture or kill them. It happens when he’s alone, but the fear registers so much more insistently when Naruto is around.

At the grocery store, when Naruto trips over nothing, Sasuke _shunshins_ there in a heartbeat, and pretends to laugh at a flustered Naruto as if the first thing on his mind right now isn’t an assassination attempt.

In the morning, when Naruto is still asleep and the orange light filters through the blinds and scatters over Naruto’s chest, making everything about him _that _much more orange, Sasuke props himself up on his elbows and memorizes his breathing patterns, just in case they are ever off somehow. He takes Naruto’s pulse in his sleep, pale fingers pressed gently to the radial artery below his thumb. He counts to fifteen and multiplies it by four. He listens to Naruto’s heartbeat. He kind of wishes he could take his temperature.

“What’re you doing?” Naruto asks once, when he wakes up to find Sasuke’s fingers around his wrist.

“Holding your hand,” Sasuke says, because he knows he’s being fussy.

Gaara visits and Sasuke does his best to give them space. He knows they share a bond that only jinchūriki will ever be able to understand, and Gaara was there for Naruto when Sasuke had been consumed with rage somewhere halfway around the world. But it isn’t jealousy that motivates him to follow them around Konoha all day, although he will always bristle at the reverence with which Gaara looks at Naruto, and the smile that Naruto returns it with: soft and grateful.

They don’t do much other than visit Naruto’s favorite shops and eat lunch at Ichiraku, and Sasuke is relieved when they finally settle down to chat on top of Hokage mountain.

Gaara is wearing his Kazekage robes, minus the hat, and he looks tired but happy. He laughs at Naruto’s antics and blushes at his words. It’s difficult to believe this is the same man who once killed so effortlessly and so well, but Sasuke doesn’t know him the way that Naruto knows him. All he knows is the way Naruto touches the scarlet forehead tattoo with his thumb and Gaara’s body stills momentarily, before Naruto laughs and lies back onto the ground.

“I’m glad we’re friends,” Naruto says, and the knot Sasuke hadn’t noticed until just then unravels in his stomach.

“I love you,” Gaara says. Dusk settles over their shadows. From his hiding place among the boulders, Sasuke wonders—not without regret—what would have happened if he had been as forthcoming with Naruto years ago as Gaara is now.

“I know.”

Gaara sighs and leans back to lie next to Naruto. “I know you know.”

They are quiet after that, and even if he doesn’t like to admit it, Sasuke thinks that Naruto is probably safe on top of Hokage mountain with Gaara and his sand. He needs to make a quick stop just outside of town, and then he needs to go home. 

Home is a second-story apartment he shares with Naruto, filled with desert plants sent from their friends—or Naruto’s friends—in Suna and shoddy sketches of the backs of Naruto’s hands, his blond eyelashes from above, and the places that Sasuke visited while he was away from Konoha. Home is their rickety dining room table that only stands on two thirds of its legs, and the kotatsu where Naruto falls asleep between one first person shooter match and the next, the warble of voices from his headphones still faintly audible until Sasuke turns them off. Home is their queen mattress that sits directly on the floor, the quilt that Moegi made Naruto years ago, the box of old vinyls that used to belong to Itachi. It’s been a long time since Sasuke thought of any place as home, and these things—Naruto’s things, although Sasuke is learning to amass his own—ground him. Sasuke is in bed when Naruto finally comes home a little after ten. He hears the door open, the soft _tadaima_, and then the louder _Sasuke?_ as Naruto makes his way toward the bedroom.

Naruto settles in easy. When he sees the look on Sasuke’s face after raking his eyes over Sasuke’s naked body, he knows exactly what to do. Naruto is easy for him, and Sasuke has never had to ask. He draws Naruto down on top of him, between his legs, and Naruto comes, stripping his shirt off over his head and disheveling his already unruly yellow hair in the process. When Sasuke presses into the back of Naruto’s neck with his palm, Naruto moves his mouth to Sasuke’s collarbone, to the shallow hollow of his throat, to the ridge of muscle between Sasuke’s neck and shoulder. He knows how to move his body and he just moves it, easy and without thought, self-assured in a way that scares Sasuke half to death.

“Naruto, hn.”

Naruto pauses and puts only enough distance between the two of them that their view of each other’s faces is no longer blurry. If Naruto’s hour is the morning, Sasuke’s is the night—blue squares of moonlight shiver on the white of the sheets, spilling over their bodies. The village sounds its usual humdrum outside their window. Nobody in the world is looking for them.

“I got something today,” he says, and ignores Naruto’s raised eyebrows in favor of reaching his hand under the pillows.

Naruto’s eyebrows rise even higher when he sees it. It’s soft and black and silicone, and Sasuke already knows it will fit perfectly in his mouth because he tried it minutes before Naruto came home.

“I thought we decided against—“

“Shh.” Sasuke kisses him quiet. He presses the ball gag to Naruto’s hand and squeezes. “Only lightly this time. I didn’t like that you felt far away from me.”

Naruto nods, and Sasuke can see his pupils dilate. He’s all Sasuke’s, from his eyes that can’t look away to the tips of his toes that dig themselves into the sheets when Sasuke fucks him slow. And Sasuke loves him, in a way that nobody in Earth or Fire or Iron or Lightning or Snow or Sound or Water or Wind or Sky could even begin to comprehend. 

He wants this, wants Naruto, and just like the objects and the souvenirs he is learning to collect and to cherish, it has taken him a long time to let himself believe that he can have it. 

“What’s that look, huh?” Naruto asks. He sits back over Sasuke’s knees, the moon under his skin. So fucking beautiful. Sasuke can’t believe he is jealous of the moon. 

“Nothing, dobe.” Because how does he tell Naruto he wants to be made to feel safe without telling him everything? “I missed you. I had a bad day. I’ve needed this for a while.” It’s three different excuses and Naruto knows. He makes a face that Sasuke reads as _I-know-you’re-lying-and-I’ll-make-you-talk-later-but-if-you-say-you-need-this-I-trust-you_.

Then Naruto slides from the bed and pads over to the closet, the folding door creaky when he pulls it to the side, and shuffles around in their clothing drawers for a minute before crawling back over Sasuke with a deep blue tie in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face. “Wanna tie you up too,” he says, and Sasuke groans. “Don’t worry, it’ll be good. Headboard or behind your back?”

_Whatever you want,_ he thinks, mind already going fuzzy, but what he means is _you are my fucking polestar. _

“Headboard is good.” He swallows. “I don’t really want to be on my knees.”

Sasuke sees Naruto’s eyes flicker at that and wonders what it would be like to have a sage mode Naruto in bed.

“Fuck, yeah,” Naruto says. He reaches across Sasuke’s body and snatches off the nightstand a key ring with three metal keys on it. “Here.” He presses it into Sasuke’s hand and Sasuke makes a face but wraps his fingers around it. “Don’t whine, teme. It’s just in case.”

“But I always drop it on accident. And then you stop.”

Naruto leans forward and kisses him, eyes closed. “And then I put it back in your hand and keep going. Don’t complain, those are the rules. Do you remember the word?”

Sasuke strains to not roll his eyes, instead fixing Naruto with his best death glare. The word is even worse than the keys. “_Ajitama_.”

Every safe word they’ve ever had has been a ramen ingredient, and if Naruto’s name hadn’t been what it is Sasuke would probably have cried out “fish cake” in the bedroom at some point in an effort to get Naruto to stop, instead of what _Naruto_ really means when they have sex, which is, of course, “keep going.”

Not that _egg_ is any better.

“Good, yeah, alright. Lift your arms.” Sasuke does, and Naruto deftly weaves the tie around his wrists and through the slats in the headboard. Sasuke pulls a little to test them, but Naruto has done this before. Naruto leans back to look, and the blue squares of moonlight slither down his body. Fuck. 

Then Naruto is pressing the gag against his lips and into his mouth, and his brain short circuits. He reaches behind Sasuke to tighten it until he’s satisfied with the way it fits around Sasuke’s head and Sasuke is satisfied with the way the silicone ball stretches his jaw not quite to the point of painful. He flexes his jaw experimentally, turns his head, tenses the muscles in his biceps against the restraints, and Naruto slides his already hard cock along the seam of Sasuke’s thigh. 

“So good,” Naruto whispers, pressing his lips to the corner of Sasuke’s mouth just under and to the right of the ball gag. 

Sasuke almost drops the keys right there and then.

“You’ll be good for me, right?” Naruto’s hand comes up to cup his jaw, and he uses his thumb to push the gag further into Sasuke’s mouth. Only lightly, and it doesn’t stay there, pops forward again once he removes the pressure, but the momentary weight on his tongue and the threat of being unable to breathe are enough for Sasuke to jerk his hips upward and slide their cocks together. 

“Hn,” is all Sasuke can manage for multiple reasons. 

Naruto laughs, and it isn’t a sex laugh, just a good ol’ Naruto laugh that is loud and uninhibited and dorky as hell. “At least you can still say that,” he laughs. “It’s half your vocabulary anyway.”

Sasuke _hn_’s again just to be irritating. He tries to keep his breathing steady and his body under control, just in case. Konoha is as safe a place as any for those who risked their lives in the war, but he knows that if he hears so much as a knock at their door right now, his Sharingan will activate and Naruto will_ know_ how restless he has been. 

“Relax,” Naruto says, voice in a lower register than before. Thankfully, it’s a command. He glares at Naruto for all of half a second, and then drops his head back, letting his legs fall open around Naruto’s hips. 

Naruto huffs out a laugh, and then Sasuke feels his lips on his neck, sucking a bruise over one of his tendons. Naruto’s palm slides across his chest, twists at a nipple in a way he knows makes Sasuke hiss, and travels down over his stomach and the wet skin of his thigh, hitching one of Sasuke’s legs up around his waist. 

All the muscles in Sasuke’s stomach clench when Naruto slides the first finger in, avoiding his cock entirely. 

“You can make noise,” he says, and somehow this is also an order. 

Sasuke growls and coughs, his mouth full of saliva. The part of him that is used to fighting with Naruto has never really gone away, and sex is still a bit like sparring to him—they’re not trying to damage each other, but if they can find the right way to make it hurt—

The blues of Naruto’s eyes are so _blue_, and Sasuke focuses on them to keep himself from drifting away.

He hardly feels anything when Naruto dips a second finger inside him, but he does keen and rock into Naruto’s hand because he wants Naruto to know that he likes it, that he wants him to keep going.

“Stop it.”

Sasuke’s mind reels, but he obeys. He blinks at Naruto through sweat he can’t wipe away, Naruto who is squinting at him under a furrowed brow.

“Don’t pretend,” he says, offended, and Sasuke chokes on an attempt to swallow because how is he supposed to hide the uneasiness the war has left him with when Naruto can read every noise—every movement—he makes like a book? “I want to know when you like it, and how you like it, so don’t pretend with me.”

That is—

Sasuke nods, and Naruto, satisfied, pushes the second finger all the way in.

It’s a lot to process. Sasuke thinks of Gaara who says “I love you” like it’s nothing, like those three words don’t shoulder the weight of his entire existence, like he isn’t admitting to a thousand other desires as well. But Naruto doesn’t love Gaara; Naruto loves him, and Naruto wants to know what Sasuke’s desires are so that he can give them to him.

_Okay,_ he thinks, _he can have this_.

He feels Naruto’s fingers scissor and stretch inside him, dragging slowly out and then thrusting back in. He doesn’t make noise when Naruto shoves the third one in alongside them, and he stays quiet when Naruto sucks a bruise into his thigh, his body jerking at the pain that blossoms under Naruto’s mouth. He shudders when he looks down and realizes Naruto is pulling at his own dick lazily, but remains absolutely silent until he feels Naruto’s pinky finger prodding at his entrance. He suddenly can’t breathe, the air coming through his nose and the small holes in the ball gag no longer enough. He tries to say Naruto’s name but the only sound he can muster is a moan. The keys in his right hand are digging into his palm—a flash of pain when he thinks one of them draws blood—but he doesn’t let them go.

Naruto looks up at him, and their eyes meet, and then he twists and pushes and Sasuke’s entire body seizes. Naruto stops jerking himself off and uses his other hand to push Sasuke back into the mattress, climbing over him. The pads of his longer fingers brush Sasuke’s prostate once, twice, and he’s so close, sweat matting his hair down against his forehead and his arms straining against the tie. He’s sinking, everything blurry and dark and the moon is fuzzy and very blue on Naruto’s face, on his chest, his legs.

A hand squeezes lightly at the base of his cock, the first time Naruto has touched him there all night. “Not yet. Stay with me.” Naruto waits until Sasuke’s eyes refocus, and then he reaches around Sasuke’s head with the hand that was on his cock and loosens the ball gag, letting it drop around Sasuke’s neck. He curls his fingers inside Sasuke. “Want you to say my name when I fuck you, yeah?”

“_Yess_.” It takes Sasuke a minute to swallow the spit that has accumulated in his mouth, but he manages the raspy response eventually. He wets his lips just before Naruto kisses him, so sloppy and so_ Naruto_ that Sasuke shoves his own hips further onto Naruto’s fingers, asking for more.

Naruto whines and leans back. He starts to pull his fingers out, but Sasuke’s stomach clenches. “Wait, wait,” he says, trying to breathe, trying to bring the room back into focus.

“I thought you wanted me to—“

“I do, I do.” He takes a long, shaky breath, finally able to inhale properly, then nods. “Okay, go ahead.”

Naruto withdraws his fingers the rest of the way, a slow, burning drag that leaves Sasuke feeling empty and frustrated. Sasuke watches him drip more lube onto his cock, tries to do what Naruto said and _relax _as Naruto leans his body over Sasuke’s until their chests are almost touching, shifts his hips at a gentle nudge from Naruto’s elbow, waits until Naruto has lined himself up and the head of his cock is bumping against his hole. It’s agonizing, but he waits. Naruto’s arms are shaky on both sides of Sasuke’s head, his cock hard and warm when the crown finally breaches and Sasuke feels the breath punched out of him like a Rasengan to his chest.

“_Naruto_.” He remembers the request, just barely.

“Good,” Naruto says, and he slides himself the rest of the way inside. “Again.”

“Naruto.” Naruto kisses him, kisses his chin and his forehead before dropping his head to Sasuke’s shoulder and drawing back almost all the way, fucking back in, and repeating the action. Sasuke lets his legs fall from Naruto’s waist and onto the sheets. He stops trying to meet Naruto’s thrusts with his own, and instead just lets Naruto hold him and fuck him hard into the mattress. Finally, _finally_, Sasuke feels a hand around his cock and he’s about to say the words “about time, asshole” when Naruto pushes the fingers of his other hand between Sasuke’s lips.

“Here, open your mouth.” Sasuke does. His eyes close. He feels boneless, like he literally has no bones. He licks the underside of Naruto’s fingers, scrapes his teeth over the top of them. He rewards Naruto with a suck whenever he feels a particularly good thrust. Naruto groans into his shoulder, biting down, licking over the mark he leaves. “There you go. Fuck, you’re doing so _good_.”

Naruto mumbles when he fucks. He has ever since the first time. His voice is a litany of _fucking amazing_ and _so good for me_ and _so fucking pretty_ that Sasuke will never tire of hearing. He grinds his hips into Sasuke and Sasuke’s throat constricts.

I would reach for you in the dark, he thinks. I would reach for you in the dark, with my last breath, at the end of the world.

He hears himself making noises he knows he will be embarrassed about in the morning, and is actually a little thankful when Naruto growls, “now be quiet and let me fuck you,” and pulls his fingers from between Sasuke’s lips just to cover his mouth fully with his hand. Naruto presses into him, holds him down with his hand and his hips and his head heavy against his shoulder. 

“Fuck, Sasuke, your body was _made_ for my cock.”

Sasuke feels his eyes start to water and he drops the keys. They clatter against the mattress, ringing like tiny bells, loud in the silence of the bedroom.

Naruto freezes; everything stops. Sasuke needs to stay grounded, so Naruto doesn’t feel far away from him. He needs to stay with him.

“Are you okay?”

He closes his eyes. Opens them. Swallows hard. “I want to be holding you. When you—“

Naruto’s eyes go wide. His hips stutter, but he recovers almost instantly. “Yeah, yeah, damn, okay, hold on, teme.” He’s reaching for the tie around Sasuke’s wrists, fumbling a little, his dick shifting uncomfortably, until Sasuke feels his arms drop free from the constraint. He flexes his wrists and meets Naruto’s eyes again, and they’re soft and sky blue and brilliant.

Naruto smiles. “Don’t come until I do, okay?”

“Hn.” Sasuke wraps one arm around Naruto’s back, fingers curling around and settling in the dips between his ribcage. With his other arm, he cradles Naruto’s head and pulls his body—warm and damp and only trembling a little—close. He raises his legs and crosses them behind Naruto’s back, digging his heels to Naruto’s tailbone to let him know that he can move again. 

He presses his face into Naruto’s neck and guides Naruto down until he’s pressing his nose and forehead against Sasuke’s shoulder, near where the curse mark used to be.

“Okay,” he says, “okay.”

And Naruto moves.

It’s rough, and Naruto doesn’t stop shaking, and Sasuke can’t bring himself to let go even after Naruto spills inside him and Sasuke’s body convulses like a shock wave.

☾

Like Sasuke said, Naruto settles in easy. He reads books and doesn’t finish them. He always, always forgets to lock the door. He falls asleep mid-movie, fingers tangled with Sasuke’s, snoring loudly even though Kiba and Hinata walked twenty minutes in the snow just to spend the evening with them. Sasuke apologizes, but they only shrug and don’t bother leaving until the movie finishes. 

He knows the war weighs heavily on Naruto, but he is better at adapting while Sasuke just _hangs on. _

Somewhere in the middle of winter, Sasuke begins developing an idea. It starts when he and Naruto are over at Kakashi’s for breakfast and Obito is there, wearing sweatpants that are too short on him. Naruto chats with Kakashi about anything and everything relating to the Hokage position he’s soon to inherit, which leaves Sasuke sitting next to what he’s decided is pretty much an older, more macabre but equally whimsical version of Naruto.

“So. Naruto. Hokage. How’re you going to manage that disaster?”

Sasuke doesn’t think Obito sounds concerned as much as curious. He crosses his arms and looks pointedly at Kakashi. “How are you?”

“Oh, eh, I don’t know.” Obito smiles a half smile, his features contorting oddly. “He’s good, he’s doing good.”

Sasuke huffs. “He’s not_ doing_ anything. He reads _Icha Icha_ all day and avoids meeting with anyone.”

“Yeah, well.” Obito nods, looks sideways at Kakashi. “He doesn’t want this.”

The _but he has this anyway_ hangs heavily between them.

Obito sighs. “Konoha’s fucked.” He smiles apologetically, as if he knows he comes off as abrasive and can’t help it. It’s a weirdly endearing mix of anger and reluctance. _He’s relearning, _Sasuke realizes. They all are. “I would have died to fix that, but _somebody_ wouldn’t let me”

Sasuke knows how he feels. He watches as Obito turns to face Kakashi, his eyes both dark and soft, and he can’t help but mirror the action to glance at Naruto, eyes wide, nodding at Kakashi with his chin resting in his hand, hair still wet from their earlier shower.

“I sort of have an idea,” Sasuke says.

Abbreviated, it’s called the ERC. Unabridged, the Ethics Review Committee.

Sasuke knows he can’t head the group himself, his past far too tarnished, but he does have a good idea of who he wants to do the job.

“Sasuke. Hey.” Shikamaru opens the door to let him inside. “What’s up?”

Sasuke is grateful that Shikamaru doesn’t bother with formalities, that he pours Sasuke a cup of coffee in silence and doesn’t mention the fact that Sasuke never visits him when Naruto does. He doesn’t bring up the last time they ran into each other, when Shikamaru had been looking for a good spot to cloud-watch and found Sasuke on the roof of Konoha’s library with a pencil behind his ear and another between his fingers, trying to sketch a passable version of the skyline for Naruto’s birthday. He doesn’t ask Sasuke how he is, and Sasuke is grateful for that the most, because they’ve both lived through too much to be able to answer that question honestly.

“I have a proposition for you,” Sasuke says, splashing his coffee with milk because all of Shikamaru’s creamer is flavored with either vanilla or caramel.

Shikamaru finishes two cups of coffee, and is pouring himself a third, by the time Sasuke has finished explaining his and Obito’s roughly processed idea.

“It’s the only way I stay awake.” Shikamaru shrugs, then fixes Sasuke with an even stare. “So you want me to head a group of people responsible for regularly critiquing the state’s conduct?”

Sasuke admits it sounds quixotic. “Yes. You—and the committee—would essentially review and monitor all Konoha’s military decisions.”

“Isn’t that the job of the council?”

Sasuke nods. “Theoretically, but they’re also responsible for upholding tradition, not to mention weighted down by bureaucracy. We would have to be more radical, and therefore unaffiliated—at least technically—with the government.”

“How would we enact changes, without affiliation?”

“We conduct protests, speak at public events, distribute literature, hold community engagements and open forums where we listen to complaints and arrange to meet with the councilors.”

Shikamaru’s expression remains frustratingly stoic, and after speaking his ideas out loud to another person, Sasuke is no longer sure they are realistic.

“We’re shinobi, Sasuke,” he says. “Our job involves accommodating the unethical in a way civilians can’t, usually for the greater good.”

Naruto doesn’t, Sasuke thinks, and he’s still the best shinobi Konoha has.

“I don’t know, okay,” is what he says. “It’s a lot, but we should start somewhere. Nobody should go to war when they’re eleven years old.”

“Right.”

They both pause while the familiarity of that statement rolls over them like a wave. Then Shikamaru stands.

“I’m in,” he says, reaching an arm toward Sasuke. “But how is Naruto going to take it? Once he’s Hokage, I can’t imagine the two of you will never be on opposing sides.”

Sasuke shrugs. He stands and clasps Shikamaru’s arm, and they were never friends before but now Sasuke feels something slowly beginning to unfold. 

He lets himself smile. “It’s not like we’ve never been rivals.”

☾

Naruto, of course, loves the idea, ignoring Sasuke when he voices Shikamaru’s concern.

"You seem happy, Sasuke,” he tells him, as they button each other’s dress shirts and Sasuke attempts to flatten some of Naruto’s hair.

Sasuke doesn’t know what happiness looks like on himself, at least not unabridged contentment, but he has stopped following Naruto around like a shadow on his days off, and sometimes he finds himself with his eyes closed long before they kiss.

“Hn.” Sasuke shrugs, concentrating on a particularly stubborn lock of Naruto’s hair. “It’ll be nice to have something to do.”

“I’m proud of you,” Naruto says, and Sasuke covers his mouth with his hand. His eyes look a little wet, and Sasuke can’t handle a crying Naruto right now, not right before they are supposed to meet friends for drinks at the izakaya. If Naruto starts to cry, then Sasuke will do what he always does and kiss him a little panicky to try to shut him up, and Naruto will read that as an excuse to take Sasuke back to bed, and neither of them will make it to drinks anywhere near the designated time. 

“Naruto,” Sasuke warns. He waits a minute until Naruto’s eyes have cleared, and then removes his hand, wiping his palm on the side of his pants. “Let’s go.”

“Eh, Sasuke, we still have a little time, don’t we?” 

Sasuke turns away, because if he keeps looking at Naruto, with his white shirt half unbuttoned and his hair wild, eyes fond and crinkling at the corners, then he is never going to leave this apartment. If he keeps thinking about Naruto, whose skin is warm and whose hands are sure and who is _proud_ of Sasuke, he is never going to leave this _room_. 

“Come on,” Naruto says, needling. He starts tugging at the back of Sasuke’s shirt, untucking it. 

“You couldn’t have thought to do this _before_ I got entirely dressed?” Sasuke sighs, but he lets Naruto turn him around and pull the rest of his shirt out from his pants. 

“I did, obviously, moron.” Naruto rolls his eyes. “But I didn’t know that you wanted it.”

“And what makes you think I want it now?”

Naruto shrugs, but his grin is wicked. “You looked at me.” 

Sasuke raises his eyebrows.

“What?” Naruto asks. He begins unbuttoning Sasuke’s shirt, starts from the bottom like the heathen that he is, letting his hands roam over Sasuke’s skin as he goes. “Sometimes you look at me this way, and I can tell you want me. It’s nice. You’re easy to read.”

Sasuke has never been accused of that before. Naruto knows him better than Sasuke knows himself, which is infuriating but also makes living with him easy, makes kissing him easy, makes giving himself over to Naruto’s hands and his mouth easy. 

“Yeah, okay,” he admits. “I want you.”

He watches as Naruto’s eyes darken, as he finishes with Sasuke’s shirt and pushes it over his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. He lets Naruto crowd him against the door, moves easily for him _(because it’s easy, he’s easy, _they’re_ easy)_, and he doesn’t complain when Naruto unbuckles his belt and slides it free, when he sticks his hand down Sasuke’s pants before Sasuke is even hard, when he plants his elbow on the door next to Sasuke’s head and bites down hard on his shoulder.

“I like it when you tell me things,” Naruto says, voice gruff and honest. “When you tell me you want me. I know you do, but I like it when you say it.” Sasuke’s hips jump forward, and Naruto nips at his shoulder one more time before pulling back to meet Sasuke’s eyes. “Tell me what you like.” 

Sasuke groans and lets his head thump back against the door. “Okay,” he swallows, willing to try. “I like . . . I don’t know, I like your hands?” He groans again when Naruto uses those hands to grip his ass, pulling him onto his toes and grinding into him. He threads his fingers through Naruto’s hair and pulls. “I like your hands, yeah. I like that you know what to do with them. I like that I like it when you fuck me, even though that’s something I never thought I’d want.” 

Naruto kisses him. It’s a little brutal and a lot desperate, which Sasuke likes because it reminds him of the good old days. “Hold on,” Naruto says. “Don’t fucking move.” 

He’s gone only for the time it takes Sasuke to regulate his breathing. 

“Turn over.”

Sasuke doesn’t mean to whine but he does. 

“I know, but just while I prep you. Come on.” 

Sasuke turns over. The wooden paneling on the door is cold against his elbows, but Naruto snakes an arm around his waist and yanks him backward slightly, and that’s better, it’s better. 

He fingers him open slowly, the pads of his fingers rough every now and then against Sasuke’s prostate, his breath hot in his ear. He keeps a steady, drowsy pace until Sasuke is hard and doesn’t think he should be relying on his legs to stand anymore, so he lets Naruto hold him upright. 

“You never—“ Naruto curls his fingers, holding Sasuke’s body tighter against him when he jolts. “You never told me why you wanted it so badly the other night.”

Sasuke is not in the mood for a talkative Naruto. He wants to be fucked hard against this door, wants Naruto to mumble a few dirty words into the back of his neck as he comes, and then he wants to go get drinks with their friends to celebrate his new ragtag committee. He does _not_ want to discuss his darkest fears while Naruto is two fingers deep inside of him. 

“Come on, _baby_.” Naruto draws his fingers out slowly, and pushes them back in at an even more excruciating pace. Curls and twists. 

Sasuke’s body freezes and he comes.

“Fuck.”

Everything is quiet as Sasuke’s world is bathed in bright light. He hears the beating of his own heart, feels the expansion and deflation of his lungs, the shiver of blood through his veins to the ends of his extremities. His eyes are closed; he feels his face twist in pleasure, the crease between his eyebrows, the way his hair falls in front of his face when his head falls forward. Naruto’s voice reverberates throughout his mind, the single word on repeat. 

When his ears have finally stopped ringing, Naruto’s fingers are still inside of him, and he can feel the sweaty plane of Naruto’s forehead between his shoulder blades. 

“Fuck,” Naruto says again. “_Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_.” 

Breathing hard, Sasuke shifts forward, trying to pull away from the body behind him without really having anywhere to go. He’s vaguely aware of what just occurred, and he wishes he knew some sort of ninjutsu that enabled him to reverse time so that they could continue this evening without the inevitable embarrassing tension Naruto is about to create. 

“That was—“

“Naruto, shut up.” 

“Fine. Can I still fuck you? I’m hard as fuck.” 

Sasuke considers it and decides he is okay with anything that puts space between the two of them and what just happened, especially while Naruto can’t see his face. 

“Yeah, sure.”

“Can I call you that again?”

“_No_.”

“I liked it, teme. And I wanted to, obviously.”

“Naruto—“

“Please.”

“_Naruto_.”

A kiss to the nape of his neck. “It felt so good to call you that.”

Sasuke bangs his forehead against the wall. He feels the flush on his face crawl down his neck to his chest. “Fine,” he says. “Do it.” 

Naruto does. He does when he sinks his cock into Sasuke the first time. He does when Sasuke rocks back, when Sasuke moans his name into the stillness of their bedroom. He says it with his face hot against Sasuke’s neck and between every kiss to Sasuke’s shoulder. He puts his lips next to Sasuke’s ear, and it’s so loud that Sasuke can feel it in his bones. 

Sasuke is only half hard but Naruto still fucks like a dream, and Sasuke isn’t good at being vulnerable, not the way Naruto is, but if he is going to do it anyway it might as well be like this, all clacking teeth and his name in Naruto’s mouth, edge of the world volatility and scar-tissue softness.

They’re cosmically late to the izakaya, and everyone knows why. Naruto’s grin is all teeth and Sasuke can’t make the flush go away, the skin on his cheeks and neck burning like wildfire.

“Really, you guys?” Sakura asks. “This night is for you.”

Naruto shrugs, but keeps his arm around Sasuke’s waist. “It’s for Sasuke. Anyway, it’s not _my_ fault he couldn’t help himself and had to have his way with me.” 

Sasuke elbows him, and the night goes on.

They drink inside, shedding layers of clothing on their way to a table. Outside, the snow begins to fall, the backdrop of Konoha through the doorway blurring into a mere sketch of the real thing. Sasuke slides into the booth next to Naruto, Shikamaru stepping out of the way to allow him to do so. His calf touches Naruto’s, and Naruto throws an arm over the back of the booth behind Sasuke’s shoulders—effortless. Above their heads, red paper lanterns glow.

“So, Naruto, you like the committee idea?” Obito asks. The only people Sasuke had wanted to be here tonight are the five of them, although he had extended the invitation to Kakashi, who hadn’t shown up for reasons Sasuke thinks he knows. 

“I do.” Naruto nods. “By the way, wh—“ 

Sasuke nudges his knee against Naruto’s under the table. “You pay for the first round,” he says, and when Obito isn’t looking, he gives Naruto a look he hopes conveys a semblance of the sentence _I’ll explain later_. Because while Sasuke and Obito learned disillusion and rage from a government that failed them, Kakashi has learned of the suffering that follows those who question it.

Naruto . . . . Well, even at the village’s worst, Naruto always saw Konoha as a place capable and worthy of change. But he knows. Sasuke sees it in the way Naruto never lets anyone speak badly of him, the way he wouldn’t let Konoha kill him, not just because of what they are to each other, but because Naruto doesn’t blame Sasuke.

Kakashi is different—a stone-cold devotion to the people he cares about, yes, but also an overwhelming skepticism toward the idea of progress that used to drive Sasuke mad as a child. 

He recalls a few days earlier, walking in on a conversation he wishes he hadn’t. 

“I don’t understand why you’re so insistent about this. I was nine when I became a jōnin. I started going out on missions before I knew how to ride a bike.”

“You still don’t know how to ride a bike, dumbass.”

“Maa, the point is, I was _good_ long before I turned fifteen. You’re taking away years of training.”

“Not everyone can be you, Kakashi.”

“They can. I was fine when—“

“You were _traumatized_.”

“We were _all _traumatized,” Kakashi bites back, his voice laden with unusual emotion. Then his face goes sheet white, eyes widening. “Oh my god,” he says, and Sasuke watches Obito cross the room to hold him as he starts to shake. “Oh my god.” 

He closes the door quietly when he leaves.

Shikamaru mentions his concern regarding Konoha’s eagerness to go to war, and the conversation weaves in that direction just as their drinks appear on the table. Naruto is surprisingly delicate in his contributions. He does not command the conversation the way he usually does, instead leaning into Sasuke’s shoulder and nodding thoughtfully, asking clarifying questions and only offering insights when asked or when there is a lull in the discussion. He only makes one joke the entire evening, and it debuts when Sakura mentions something that implies she spends more time at Ino’s flower shop than she is willing to admit. When the subjects they discuss are heavy, Naruto is sensitive; when they are lighthearted, Naruto is his usual unrestrained self. 

Sasuke slips a hand under the table, where Naruto’s is already waiting for him. He is thankful for this side of Naruto, the side that listens and absorbs and amazes Sasuke over and over with how intelligent he can be. Naruto settles in easy, but it isn’t always upbeat and brazen; sometimes it’s the soft focus of his eyes on whoever he is talking with, or the fluid nuance of his expressions, or the thumb rubbing circles on the back of Sasuke’s wrist when somehow—without even looking—he knows that the particular conversation topic has made Sasuke anxious. Naruto settles in easy, but he never really settles, and the thought makes Sasuke preposterously happy.

He kisses the top of Naruto’s head and receives a small smile from Sakura. 

“We can use my place for now,” Shikamaru is saying. “It’s big and empty.”

Obito and Sakura agree, and Sasuke _hmm_’s his approval. Naruto is smiling but his eyes look a little sad. Sasuke squeezes his hand under the table, tries to let him know that he’s here, that Naruto will never be not involved because he’ll have Sasuke. As Hokage though, it won’t be Naruto’s place to be a part of the ethics committee, and they are both aware that even someone with Sasuke’s relationship to Naruto may not be desirable to have on board. They’ve talked about it. Sasuke isn’t about to give up Naruto for the committee, but he plans on putting good people in place and remaining a part of it for as long as he can.

“How do we even know what’s ethical?” Sakura asks, and the question stumps them momentarily, before Shikamaru suggests that they should base their decisions on the collective desires of the people, and Naruto insists that everyone knows what is good, for the most part, inherently. 

The five of them order another round of drinks—on Obito this time—and conversation fades into small talk, into Sakura’s sort-of-relationship with Ino, into Naruto and Sasuke’s recent trip to see the ocean for the first time, dark humor from Obito and the occasional precise comment from Shikamaru, who has substituted his alcohol for coffee. Naruto provides Sasuke with the buffer he needs to endure many social situations, but this feels more comfortable than Sasuke expected, dim lights and the flurry of snow through the window, people that he might one day be able to call friends. He doesn’t really know how he got here. 

Except he does. He does. 

Naruto is drinking from Sasuke’s sake cup, and he has his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, cuffs messy. He leans into Sasuke’s space, smelling like alcohol and sweat and and the miso he had for dinner.

Socializing is not Sasuke’s strong suit, but when Naruto laughs, he laughs, his hand holding Naruto’s under the table. It’s more intimacy than he usually displays in public, but he feels affectionate. Maybe when Naruto had told Sasuke he looked happy, he had been remembering a moment like this: the man he loves, laughter against his shoulder, the night clear and cold.

_It’s alright to cry when you’re happy._

Two drinks later, Naruto and Sakura are teasing Obito about Kakashi’s face mask, and Sasuke watches through the window as winter rolls past Konoha’s defenses. He lets them talk and keeps his eyes fixed on the outdoors, the undercurrent of fear slowly making its way back into his bones, though not quite as strong as it used to be.

It’s only when Naruto, hours later, a little drunk and with his forehead to Sasuke’s temple, tangles their fingers together and whispers _love you, baby_, that Sasuke makes up four separate excuses for needing to go home and gets them the hell out of there.

“Was it Gaara?” Naruto asks, words sloppy as Sasuke attempts to peel his jeans off and put the man to sleep. 

“No, Naruto. Of course not.”

“I know I spent a lot of time with him that day.” Naruto rolls onto his stomach, tangling his pants between his legs. Sasuke huffs and tugs. “He told me he loved me, ya know. I just . . . . S’not important, but you should now.”

"It doesn’t bother me, dobe,” Sasuke says, and means it. He finally gets the jeans off and drops them onto the carpet, removing his own and then crawling under the covers next to Naruto. He keeps his voice soft, in case Naruto remembers this in the morning. “I don’t worry about us.”

It’s almost true, because Sasuke worries about their relationship much less than he had expected to worry about it, given the people he’s lost, given the decisions he’s made. 

“I just thought maybe that’s why you wanted it that way.”

Sasuke reaches for Naruto and brings him close enough to count his breaths, to feel the warmth of his chest and conclude it’s exactly as warm as it has always been. To take his pulse he would only have to reach out—

“I was scared,” Sasuke whispers into Naruto’s hair once he’s certain Naruto is asleep. “I was scared and I’m still scared and I wanted to feel safe.”

In the morning, Sasuke wakes up first and heads to the kitchen to make breakfast. He dusts off one of Itachi’s vinyls and puts it on the record player.

When Naruto finally stumbles out of the bedroom, huffing about being late to a meeting with the old lady Tsunade, Sasuke lets the words slip out.

“You should marry me.”

Naruto seems suddenly much more awake. “What? Sasuke, eh?”

“I’m scared, all the time. That some remnant of the war is going to catch up with us. But I think now, with the committee, I feel more in control, and I just . . . . You know my heart.”

Naruto’s expression breaks into a grin. His eyes are still crusty from sleep, but he is fully present in the room with Sasuke. “You said that to me once before.”

Sasuke wrinkles his nose. “I know.”

“Okay,” Naruto says. He turns his back to Sasuke, rifling through the cupboard in search of a clean bowl, but Sasuke can hear the smile in his voice. “Okay, yeah.”

☾

Sasuke marries Naruto on the fourth of October, in a three-piece suit, in the forest outside of Konoha. It’s kind of a big deal. 

The ethics committee takes years to fully implement, and they are not allowed to independently change the law, but they are allowed to bring any shinobi laws to the council for reconsideration. They are allowed to make their case to the councilors, and to bring back rejected proposals every three and a half years. It’s slow work, but Sasuke is happy. The word has begun to feel familiar behind his tongue.

He and Naruto fight about it every so often, but mostly Naruto is proud of him. He tells him so, and Sasuke beams like he’s fucking five years old again and Itachi has just agreed to play a game with him. He tilts his head up to avoid Naruto’s stare, a blush spreading down his neck. He can’t stop smiling and Naruto knows, plants a sloppy kiss on his jaw. He’s so fucking _happy_.

☾

“I walked in on Kakashi-sensei and Obito the other day.”

“I don’t want to hear about it, Naruto.”

“Anyway they’re boning.”

Sasuke pulls out and throws the condom at Naruto’s face, Naruto cackling wildly. Sasuke steals all the blankets for good measure.

He remembers nights when all he could dream about was watching Naruto die, his Sharingan burning the memory into his mind. Waking up soaked in sweat and panting uncontrollably, thankful beyond measure that he was alone because even after he shoved his emotions somewhere far beneath the surface of his mind, his body still needed a good cry.

Now, he lets Naruto fall asleep without trying to count his breaths. When he folds his fingers around Naruto’s wrist, it really is just because he wants to hold his hand.

_How did we get from that to **this**?_

The answer is, of course, the long way round.

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked my shameless self-indulgence, my tumblr is [scary-crow](https://scary-crow.tumblr.com/) ^_^


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